


Fragrance of Dark Coffee

by NekoAbi



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Car Accidents, Character Death, Far too much coffee, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Seeing Colour Soulmate AU, Soulmate AU, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAbi/pseuds/NekoAbi
Summary: Roman comes to a deserted park in the late afternoon with his cup of coffee. Someone interrupts him, a man who is willing to hear his story. He begins to recount the time he spent with and without his soulmate.





	Fragrance of Dark Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is influenced by Godot's theme from Ace Attorney.
> 
> Yes, you should totally listen to it, all versions of it, because it's great.

“So, you came here to have coffee? Really?”

Roman looked blankly at the man standing next to the table, “Yes. Is this such a big deal?”

The man shrugged, “Not really, it just feels a little weird. Why come here now and with some weird take out coffee?”

“It’s…” Roman stared down at the unbranded, synthetic cardboard cup in his hands. He would admit, it was a little strange, but he honestly had a reason to come to this spot in the park. He rested his arms on the table, letting the wind chill hit him in before he spoke again, “It’s a long story.”

The sound of rustling had Roman’s head snapping up, only to see the other man seating himself on the opposite side of the bench, “I’ve got nothing to do, lay it on me.”

Roman was shocked, unsure of what to say, “Are you sure? This story doesn’t have a particularly happy ending…”

“I assumed.” The man was patiently waiting, “Seriously, I want to hear this.”

“Okay, well…” Roman took a deep breath, eyes returning back to the coffee cup in his hands, “It all started about 7 years ago…”

They’d met in this park. It was just a random coincidental meeting, but it was perfect. Well, as perfect as a first meeting can be when the man you meet spills coffee all over you and you end up reeking of the gross dirty bean water.

Colours exploded in his vision as he met the eyes of the gorgeous stranger, who looked about ready to bolt at the same time. Roman had managed to convince him to at least have a quick conversation before running away as far as he could. Thankfully, it ended with him learning the stranger’s name. Virgil.

They met again a few days later. This time, it was planned. A date, if you wanted to put an official title on it. And it went so well. Their energies just worked together, they both had a mutual attraction and they just got on immediately. At the end of the night, their first kiss was truly magical. That lingering taste of coffee on his mouth wasn’t so bad.

Eventually, they ended up dating. Officially together. No one else. Everyone around them was happy for them, no ill will at all. It was perfect. The happiest Roman had ever been was during that honeymoon phase of their relationship. They moved in together a few months after that and were slowly building a future together. Shades of purple and red dotted their home, some light-hearted arguments over who had the best colour. While Roman passionately defended his red, the purple mug sat under the coffee machine made him smile despite the overbearing smell of the drink.

It had been just two years since they’d met. Virgil was driving home from work. He was originally going to take a diversion to pick up Roman, but Roman told him to go home, he’d be working late anyway. Virgil had listened and drove home. But he didn’t make it.

The call was heart-stopping. Roman left his work behind, a half-finished sentence laying in the centre of the desk with the pen dropped at it’s end. He drove to the hospital, made his way in but was told to wait. Which he did. After some coercing.

No matter how much he’d wished and hoped and prayed for the man he’d loved so much to be okay, Roman knew almost immediately when he was gone. The colour drained, leaving shades of white, black and grey. Roman silently cried, blinking rapidly. Maybe it was just his imagination, surely it would come back if he tried hard enough. But it was gone. It was not coming back. Someone walked past with a plastic cup of coffee and the smell made Roman throw up right there. In the hospital.

Roman paused his story, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. He refused to look up and meet the eyes of the man who sat across from him. He didn’t need the pity that was always present when he told people his soulmate died.

“Sounds like you don’t like coffee all that much. So, why are you drinking it now?”

Roman laughed hollow, “Do you still have time?” The man nodded.

Virgil had loved coffee. He drank it often. Especially when he was stressed. It was practically an addiction. He enjoyed the taste, fed off the caffeine boost. Roman was concerned but allowed his soulmate to do as he wished.

Roman had never liked coffee. He always hated the taste, no matter what the blend or what was added. He’d only had a couple sips to try it and only ever tasted it from Virgil’s own mouth. That was until he got home from the hospital. That was his first cup of coffee.

He sat on the couch in the cold, dark living room, holding the almost black mug of bitter liquid and sipped at it. His mind was blank, unfeeling. He was still trying to process the fact that Virgil was not coming through that front door to greet him. The cup lasted him until the sun rose. Even though it was cold, Roman still drank it until it was gone.

It rained that day. Roman stared out into the rain through the window. He could almost swear he could see Virgil’s face on the people walking by in the street. As if he was everywhere. Yet he was nowhere.

Three days in a row, he drank the bitter liquid. He felt it as it burned his throat on the way down. It was disgusting and vile. But it was worth it to keep him awake.

Any time Roman would close his eyes to sleep, there Virgil would be. Haunting his dreams. During these moments, he could almost pretend he was still here. Could practically feel his thin arms wrapping around his waist and the weight against his back. The spell was broken every time he had to open his eyes. Every time he had to face the reality of the empty, monochrome space he now lived in.

It was slightly more manageable.

Until the funeral.

Number 5.

Roman sat at a table that was also occupied by various loved ones and friends of both him and Virgil. But he sat silent, sipping another cup. He just needed it. He needed that reminder. That night, he finally allowed himself to cry openly. He cried himself asleep. He cried himself awake. He cried the whole day. It was the moment where it all clicked. That door was staying firmly shut unless he opened it for a visitor. That morning had been 6.

Yet he still longed for it to open. He wanted to be back when he had something to look forward to, an entire world to look after. He just wanted one more tender moment with him. That’s all.

His friends and family came to check on him frequently after that, and it got better. It still hurt, his mind was still not entirely there, but it was getting better. He’d still find himself with a clogged-up throat and wet eyes, but he was getting there.

Until their anniversary rolled around. Roman ached as he returned home after a day of distraction with his friend. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he found what he’d already bought for that day in the same hiding place. 7.

He went to curl up in bed. Roman glanced at the wardrobes and acted on impulse, going in and pulling out one of Virgil’s old hoodies that had been saved. He slipped it over his arms and held himself tightly. As he lay down, something hard pressed against his leg. Roman pulled out the offending object with curiosity. It was a small box. He felt his blood run cold as, with shaky hands, he opened it.

A ring.

Roman cried again, dropping it to the floor. He stumbled out of the room, just wanting to get away. He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t want to think about the future they both lost. He didn’t want to think about what could have been. Another cup was downed, the drink scorching his already dry throat. The physical pain helped mask the emotional pain.

Roman refused to enter his own bedroom until the offending object was taken away. He offered it to his friend, telling him to just take it and use it however he liked.

Over the coming months, cup 9 fell on Halloween as it was Virgil’s favourite holiday. Cup 10 was sometime during December, simply for the fact of not being able to share such a family-oriented time with the one he loved the most, even now.

When the anniversary of Virgil’s death came around, Roman was being followed up on by his friends and family so much more. He appreciated it, but it wasn’t exactly subtle. On the actual day, he was quiet and remorseful. He should have gone home with Virgil, making him take that different route and avoid that asshole. He should have just dropped his work and gone to see his soulmate, his partner, his love. But he didn’t. The salty tears dripped from his chin into the mug in his hands, not making the mixture any more pleasant.

12 through 14 passed through with no rhyme or reason. All were in the span of the six months that passed, though 13 was definitely on Virgil’s birthday. It was his lucky number after all. It was slowly getting easier to remember the best of times, slowly getting easier to live in the home they’d come to reside in together. Roman returned to work, finding that throwing himself into such a passion project was one of the most helpful things. He made new friends, had some go.

Then his best friend got engaged. With using the ring that he’d taken from Roman’s home, with his permission. Roman was truly happy that his little ball of sunshine was so enamoured and in love. Didn’t stop the pain. He drank it away with more bitter liquid, which he’d grown unaccustomed to in the two years since his last taste of the stuff.

Their wedding was beautiful. It honestly was. Roman was proud of his friend. Proud of all the work both sides of the happy couple had put into their special day. Proud of even being invited to be a part of it. He cried that day again. Both out of joy and sadness. The emptiness crept in every now and then, with it growing in size each time until he was alone once more. Hotel coffee was certainly different to anything else he’d ever had, bring his total to 16.

“So, is this 17?” The man opposite asked, having stayed silent for the duration of Roman’s story.

Roman nodded.

“How long since 16?”

“Around 3 years.”

“Why now?”

Roman didn’t respond right away, instead he looked into the man’s eyes opposite him. Those lovely green eyes. Roman smiled but cleared his throat in an attempt to not cry, “Because, I’ve finally accepted Virgil’s death.”

The man looked confused for a moment. “17 is an odd number. Why not stop at 15? Or 20?”

There was a fondness in Roman’s eyes as he gazed back down to the cardboard, “Virgil always stopped himself at 17. He never went past 17 cups of coffee in a day. It sounds like a lot still, and it was, but it was one of those quirks.”

Silence fell between the pair.

“I wanted to come here for this one specifically. Back to where it began. Complete the cycle.”

The man opposite huffed out a breath, “A little poetic, I suppose.”

They both looked around the park. The trees were being rustled by the light breeze, the patches of grass separated by pathways spreading out from the circle where their bench sat. The fallen leaves blowing around their feet, the green contrasting wonderfully with the light brown of the dirt.

“So, what’s next?”

Roman’s focus was brought back to the man sat opposite him before dropping back to the black cup in his hands. He lifted it to his lips and downed the last bit of the awful drink, grimacing as it slipped down his throat for the final time, “We go home.

The man smiled warmly and stood, offering his hand to Roman, “If that’s what you want, then let’s go.”

Roman took his hand and they walked towards the black gates, out onto the street. He thought about how lucky he was to find someone new, someone else who loved him in the same way. He’d never heard of this, but he felt so blessed. With all the shades of green he could see throughout the park and the different hues of blue and orange mixing together to create the beautiful evening sky, there was just one thing nagging at his mind as they approached his partner’s car.

“Hey, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What’s that?” The man asked, standing next to the car.

“Why is your car such an odd grey colour?”

His partner gave him another confused look before he laughed, “You must be messing with me. Of course. C’mon, we both know it’s red, silly. You wear it all the time.”

Roman immediately joined in with the laughter, “Ah, you got me. Always do…” He slipped into the car alongside his partner, thinking back the disposed cup. The edge of the white lid had been slightly discoloured due to the brown liquid inside. He wanted to know. He had to know now.

“Just humour me here. What colour was the cup I was holding a minute ago?” Roman asked, trying not to seem too suspicious.

His companion replied without thinking as he was busy pulling away into the road, “Purple, obviously.”


End file.
